Dancing Shoes
by flashpenguin
Summary: With two left feet and the Police Officer's Ball three weeks away, John Reese hires the last person on earth to teach him to dance: Lionel Fusco. Will the detective be able to teach the ex-hit man for hire a "pas de deux" in time to win Joss Carter's heart? One-shot! COMPLETE! Co-written w/rjwritergirl.


_After watching 'The Count of Monte Cristo' for the millionth time, I couldn't help but laugh knowing that for all of his talent and kick ass abilities, Jim really can't dance. I guess we must all have a flaw or two. But I wondered to myself: What if Reese wanted to woo Joss by learning to dance, and what if his instructor was Lionel? Oh, I could see the sparks flying in ALL directions! I hope you like this._

 _For the record, the term "twinkle toes" means someone who is nimble and quick on their feet._

 _Song prompt: "Dancing Shoes" by Nigel Olsson_

 _I don't own Person of Interest._

* * *

 **Dancing Shoes**

The bell dinged to signal arrival and Lionel Fusco stepped out of the elevator. In his left hand he carried a large portable CD player. Heaving it, he walked toward the large, heavy oak door. His feet were heavy with anticipation, but he wasn't going to let his nervousness show. Oh no, there was no way in hell he was going to let the Caped Crusader see him sweat. But as he raised his fist, he wondered if maybe it wasn't too late to turn around and run away.

Before he could knock, the door swung open.

"Hello, Lionel," Reese greeted evenly. His expression remained neutral.

Covering his heart, Lionel took a deep breath and tried to slow the palpitations. "Geez! What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" he accused breathlessly.

"Not yet. Come inside," Reese invited and opened the door wider.

"Don't mind if I do." Lionel stepped over the threshold and looked around in awe at his surroundings. "Wow!"

Reese closed the door and threw the numerous locks. "You seem surprised."

"This is yours?" Lionel asked in amazement. "Who'd you kill for this?"

"It was a gift from a friend."

"Damn! I need to get some new friends." Lionel set the portable stereo on the coffee table and stepped back.

"There's a newsflash," Reese remarked dryly.

Lionel shot him a look. "Real funny. So, why did you ask me here? And why do you need that?" he nodded toward the stereo.

"I need a favour."

"You need a favour? From _me_? What, you run out of bullets and can't knee-cap bad guys anymore?" Lionel replied tongue in cheek. "Or are you going to learn to soothe the savage beast with music?" he wondered.

"No, my stash is pretty set. I heard you have a talent."

Lionel paused. "Depends on which talent you're talking about," he answered slowly.

"You're a champion ballroom dancer."

Lionel breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, yeah. That one." Reese raised his eyebrows. "What?" Lionel asked indignantly.

"Nothing."

"Look, I may not be in the best of shape, but I can still cut a rug or two. I'll have you know that I almost went to Broadway, but instead I went to the Academy."

"That would have been interesting."

"I could have been the next Fred Astaire," Lionel bragged and puffed out his chest.

"Sure," Reese nodded.

"Is that why you called me over here; to rib me about dancing? If so, I need to go, because I have bad guys to catch." Lionel huffed.

"I need you."

Lionel looked at the man in the suit. "Excuse me?"

"I need you," Reese repeated a bit louder.

Lionel hesitated. "For what?"

"To teach me to...dance. I don't know how," Reese admitted reluctantly.

The words slowly sank in. A second later Lionel burst out laughing.

"It's not funny, Lionel."

"Sorry," he apologized. "I just never imagined Superman having two left feet."

"We all have our kryptonite. That's why I need you."

With the back of his hand, he wiped away the tears. "Let me if I have this straight: _You_ want _me_ to teach _you_ how to dance?"

"Yes."

Looking closely, Lionel saw that Reese was serious. "Okay. But it's going to cost you."

"What is it going to cost me?"

"I don't know. I'll have to get back with you on that one, okay?"

"Deal."

Lionel took off his jacket and laid it on the back of the couch. "Sure. I've got nothing else better to do with my spare time," he grumbled. "Come here." Reese stepped forward so he could be face to face with Lionel. "Now what?"

Lionel took the remote out of his slacks pocket, pointed it, and hit "play". The soft sounds of Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty Waltz filled the spacious loft.

"What is this?" Reese sputtered in surprise.

"Music. What were you expecting? JLo?"

"No. But this is...this is old."

"It's 'classical'," Lionel corrected. "And it's perfect for learning to dance the waltz."

"The what?!"

"The waltz. That _is_ what you want to learn?" Lionel asked. "Or maybe the Tango?" He shook his hips for effect. "What about the Paso? The Charleston?" He listed quickly off the top of his head. "How about The Quick Step?" He moved his feet quickly.

Reese held up his hands. "The Waltz is okay. I was just expecting something a little more..." He searched for the right word. "...modern."

Lionel gave a snort. "Heh. You mean that crap kids today bump and grind to, and call dancing? Not in my school, pal." He held up his hands. "Now take your position. Right arm up, left hand here."

Reese eyed his friend. "Lionel..." He could feel the sweat break out on his forehead.

"Stop messing around and take my hand," Lionel ordered. He waited for Reese to follow through. "Okay. First position. Elbows locked, back straight. Put your hand here." He guided Reese's hand to his upper right arm. "There."

"I feel stupid."

Lionel looked at him in disbelief. "Really? You should try being in my shoes. Now with your right foot you're going to step forward as I step back. Ready? Step." Lionel stopped. "Ouch! Your other right foot, Boy Wonder." He tried to shake it off. "Let's try that again. Step."

Reese performed flawlessly.

"Good," Lionel praised. "Now, let's try incorporating a couple of new steps in with that one. Step out on your right, then your left, then use your right to side-step, and then turn me. Got it?"

"I think so."

"Okay. Go." The pair moved. Suddenly Lionel smacked Reese on the top of the head. "Hey! Eyes up here! No looking at your feet. Try again." A couple of seconds later, Lionel smacked Reese again.

"Ow! That hurt," Reese complained.

"This coming from a guy who wears bullet scars like badges of honour? Eyes forward. And one and two..." Lionel counted off. "Step out..."

Smack.

"Stop!" Reese growled.

"Then stop looking at your feet. Again."

Another smack.

"Don't do that again, Lionel," Reese warned.

"Be glad you don't have the dance instructor I had; she used a long stick."

"I have a gun."

"I have the moves. Now let's do this one more time. Listen to the music and let it lead you." Reese hesitated. "I know you like to take charge and be in command, but not this time; I'm in charge here," Lionel boasted. "Do the steps, or I take home one of your prized weapons."

Closing his eyes, Reese did as he was told.

"See? Was that so hard?" Lionel praised.

"That was nice," Reese agreed. He felt himself begin to relax.

"That was the easy part. Now for the next lesson," Lionel grinned.

An hour later, Lionel felt he hadn't accomplished much; his feet hurt and he was sure there was at least one broken toe in the group. But he had to admire the determination his friend had to complete the lesson.

"Good job," he praised. "Let's take a break." Wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, he looked at Reese. "Why are you doing this?"

"I have my reasons," Reese replied breathlessly.

"Which I'm sure you're going to share with me."

"Nope."

Lionel's eyes widened. "You mean I spent the last hour getting my feet pulverized and you're not going to tell me why you are doing this?"

"It's not important."

Lionel nodded. "Not important. Okay." He grabbed his coat and pulled it on. "Good night."

Reese grabbed Lionel's arm. "Wait. Where are you going?"

"Home. You aren't being honest with me, and I don't like having my time wasted."

Reese internally debated with himself for a long second before saying, "It's for Joss."

Lionel stopped short. His mouth dropped open. "Joss?" he repeated stupidly. "You mean Joss Carter?"

"Yes."

"Our mutual friend Joss Carter?"

"The same one. You can take the surprised look off your face, Lionel."

"Wow. I didn't see that one coming. That changes things. I didn't know you and she...you know."

"We're not."

Lionel's eyebrows went higher. "Really? Then why all of this torture?"

"I want to take her to the Police Officer's Ball," Reese confessed.

"The Police Officer's Ball next month?"

"Is there another one I don't know about?"

"Did she say yes?"

"Well, I didn't exactly ask her. I bought tickets, though."

Lionel stepped forward so he was face to face with Reese. "Wait a minute! You want to take her to the Ball, so you're torturing yourself – and me – by learning how to dance – and you haven't asked her yet?!"

"I want to make sure I know the basics before I commit."

Lionel smacked Reese on the back of the head. Hard. "You should be committed," he corrected. "Screw the basics. Ask her out. If you need any ideas, I hear she likes frozen yogurt."

"I can't."

"Won't. Quit being a wuss and ask her out before someone else does."

"I need to learn how to dance before I can do that," Reese argued passionately.

Lionel let out his breath in one long stream. "Well that's going to be a problem, pal. See, you got two left feet."

"Hey!" Reese protested.

"I hate to break it to you, but you ain't exactly what we call a 'twinkle toes'." Lionel watched as his friend's face fell. "But you have something in your corner."

"What's that?" Reese groused. How could there be a ray of hope left?

"Me. Look, I'll make you deal: You do everything I tell you – without putting up a fight – and once I teach you the basics, you ask her out."

Reese shook his head. "I don't know, Lionel."

"Hey, I got what you need to get Joss to go with you. And save her toes," he added jokingly. "It's up to you to do the rest. So, is it a deal? You feel like taking that spin on the wheel of romance?"

"Are you sure you can have me ready?" Reese wondered cautiously. "We only have less than three weeks."

Lionel grinned broadly. "Time to put on your dancing shoes." He threw off his coat and took his place in front of Reese. "Sweetheart, by the time I get done with you, you'll be able to give Gene Kelly a run for his money."

"Isn't he dead?" Reese replied as Lionel grabbed his hand. A second later he yelped in surprise as Lionel dipped him. "What the hell...?"

"Yep. And you are going to be amazing!" He pulled Reese back to a standing position before turning the music back on. "Ready? On three. A one. A two. A three..."  
*****

With the confidence of a man who had spent his life dancing, John Reese spun Joss Carter around on the dance floor. Free and clear of the dancers, the other attendees stood off to the side and watched as the mysterious man danced with the respected detective.

Reese tried to ignore the curious looks as he held tight to the woman of his heart and moved to the music. He felt almost ethereal as his feet remembered the steps that had been literally pounded into him over the past three weeks.

As the music came to an end, he expertly dipped Joss down and held her as the crowd burst into applause. Their eyes met and held. Pulling her up, he held her close as another song began. The dance floor filled with other dancers who wanted their chance to shine too.

"Wow!" Joss exclaimed breathlessly. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"

"Would you believe me if I told you Lionel taught me?"

Joss pulled back in surprise. " _Lionel_ _Fusco_?"

"The same."

"You have to be kidding me. What did it cost you?"

Reese shrugged."I don't know; he wouldn't tell me."

"Let him have whatever he wants," Joss said with a smile. "He taught you well."

"He did say that if I learned the basics, the rest would follow."

Their bodies pressed together, slowly they swayed to the music in perfect time.

"Oh? What 'rest would follow'?" Joss prompted. Reese took her hand and put it on the crown of his head. "What's that?" she asked, feeling the lump under her fingers.

"Evidence that I love you." Before Joss could reply, Reese took her lips with his and kissed her long and deep. Slowly he drank of her sweetness until he swore he felt himself growing drunk. Coming up for air, they stared at one another.

"Wow," Joss held on to Reese's arms to keep her balance as she looked into his eyes. She felt her heart go into free-fall.

"So, what do you say? You feel like taking a spin on that wheel called romance?" Reese wondered.

"Well," she began, "we do have our dancing shoes on, and since I love you too. I say we should go for it."

"Really?" Reese tightened his arm around Joss' waist. "How far should we go?"

"All the way," she confirmed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Reese's blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "When do you propose we start this journey, Detective?"

With her heart in her eyes, Joss stood on tip-toes. "How about now?" she said then sealed their promise with a kiss.

Off in the corner of the room, a lone figure watched the couple in the middle of the floor and gave himself a pat on the back. He had known with a little push, those two knuckleheads would eventually get together. And with the way they were all over each other, he had no doubt they would have no problem paying back his favor with the title of Uncle.

 _ **The End.**_


End file.
